


A faithful knock

by Elvesinmyheart



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hair Braiding, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Touching, Underage in chapter one where no Sex is practised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:53:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4329267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvesinmyheart/pseuds/Elvesinmyheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The relationship between father and son is distant but young Legolas can't bear it any longer and needs his father back. And maybe not just that...</p><p>"Legolas doesn't know what is happening until he feels Thranduil's hands slowly undoing one of the small braids behind his ears. He relaxes into the simple affection he loved so much when he was but a child. He still does. And so they sit there, talking about the things that happened, about his mother and how beautiful she was. It is when Thranduil says “You remind me so much of her. You smell like her,” that the youth's thoughts begin to travel that sicken road again he hates himself so much for."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A faithful knock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aronnaxs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aronnaxs/gifts).



> I'm sorry for the fucked up formatting. I tried to fix the issue but somehow A03 won't let me and doesn't save my changes. When I have more time on my hands, I try to get back to this. Until then, I hope it doesn't prevent you from reading this. Sorry! :(
> 
> My awesome beta is 2Loverz. (Captain-Chris-Pike on Tumblr)
> 
> I gift this to aronnaxs because her fics were the first I read and are the reason why I'm here. <3

He stands at the giant wooden door and stares at it. His hands wandering slowly to the handle, shaking. He tries to steady them, but he knows it's wasted effort and he also knows, that he will neither knock, nor enter the chamber that lies hidden from his view.  
It's always like that.  
Every night since the day she passed. It changed so much and he wants to cry over the darkness and loneliness that is in his heart.  
He sinks to the ground and burrows his face into his hands, not caring for the useless guards at both sides of the door looking down at him with straight faces. But he sees it in their eyes. Their pity and he is sick of it. He doesn't need their pity. He needs the elf behind these doors.  
_His father._

After some time he collects himself and turns on his heels, swiftly running down the path to his own quarters, hating himself for his thoughts and weakness. Once again he throws himself onto his bed. Crying and alone. 

It's 10 years later when he finally finds the courage to knock. He's 40 now. So very young and not grown to full height yet, looking like 14 or 15 in the eyes of humans, though his mind is much more advanced than his body. That's how it is with the firstborn.  
“What is it?”, came the dark voice from behind the doors, clearly carrying a note of anger as the hour is late, usually no one dares to disturb the king at such a time.  
“It's me, Adar. May I come in?”  
The seconds stretches and he already feels the darkness crawling up his spine as he hears the dark voice again.  
“Enter,” and he could not tell if he is welcome or not. He takes a deep, shivering breath and pushes the handle down, entering the candle lit room with a spinning mind. He doesn't know what he's doing here anymore. He sees his father every day and they speak but there is no warmth in him and their relationship is distance. No personal conversations. Nothing and it kills him. He needs his father and not the king.

His sharp senses are overwhelmed the second he steps through the door. The smell is so distinctive his father, that he instantly wishes to be a little elfling again, rocked into sleep by strong arms, the alluring, soothing voice lulling him into a peaceful slumber and this unmistakable scent of nature personified.

Thranduil lies sunken in the middle of his giant wooden four poster bed between silken cushions that have the same color as his famous wine. A deep purple red that contrasts with his silver white hair and nearly white skin in a way Legolas doesn't allow his thoughts to travel now. He is just here to talk, ( no he isn't and his subconsciousness knows it) but his father is so devastatingly beautiful, he is barely able to hide his staring. He is terrified by his father's appearance. His feet frozen to the ground, he watches as Thranduil stretches like a giant lazy cat. He wears some kind of white semi-lustrous see through thing,that is tied to his hips with a loose bow, revealing more than it hides and the youth swallows as he takes everything in. He is sure that his father is the finest of all children Iluvatars.

“You gape like a fish,” the king speaks and puts the wine glass in his hands on the little table beside the bed. He shifts himself into a sitting positing, leaning to the headboard as he pets the bed beside him.  
“Come here son and tell me what troubles you.”  
Still Legolas can not tell if he is welcome or not since his fathers voice is controlled, giving no information away about his thoughts. It was not always like that.  
Slowly and embarrassed he edges closer to the bed. Very aware of the heat on his cheeks and the burning heartbeat in his chest. He loves his father so much, he hardly can bear it. 

He sits down and stares helplessly at his feet like they have grown hairs, mind completely blank. A part of him wants to stay and confess all the turmoil he lived with in all the past years, the other simply wants to run away. Away from his father. Away from the kingdom. Away from this god forsaken middle-earth. 

He opens his mouth but no words come out. He has no idea what to say.  
“Legolas?”, a hint of worry in the tone.  
The youth closes his eyes, savoring the sound of his name from his father's lips. It is too long since he heard it and he can't help the sob that escapes his throat nor the shaking of his whole body that follows. Shame paints his cheeks red. He doesn't want to show weakness, but he is helpless. He misses his father so much. 

His breath hitches as he suddenly feels warm arms wrapped around his body, pulling him into a tight embrace. He lies with his head on Thranduil's chest as the elf is finished shifting them into a comfortable position, with their legs tangled and bodies pressed together. Thranduil's scent surrounds him and his warm body is way too close. He can barely breathe. Suddenly the room is hot despite it's chill.

There is silence for a moment, then “I am sorry. I am so sorry. Please forgive me. I did not realize what I have done to us,” his father says in a voice Legolas hasn't heard in decades. It opens some kind of flood gate in him and it shakes his entire being as everything pours out.  
The pain of his mother's death, the emptiness and coldness that lived in his heart ever since, the confusing feelings he harbors for Thranduil, the gaping barrier between them, just everything. 

It is hours later when his sobbing finally dies down. All the while Thranduil holds and strokes him and he delights in the innocent feeling of being protected and cared for again, the heaviness in his heart finally wears off and he finds that he can breathe again.

“I was not there for you when you needed me the most. I do not know how I can make it up to you. How can you ever forgive me?,” the king mumbles with his face buried in his son's golden hair.  
“I have already forgiven you Adar since there is nothing to forgive. You loved her greatly as did I and we both lingered in our sullen thoughts. I-I was at your door nearly every night, but I couldn't find the courage to knock. If I have knocked sooner, I would have saved us much pain.”  
The king shifts into a sitting position, drawing his son with him and for the first time in years they held proper eye contact, that lasted longer that a few fleeting seconds. His gaze is serious as he speaks with a determined voice.  
“Do not ever blame yourself for your actions ever again, do you understand, Legolas? I am your father. I am the person who is destined to watch over you. To protect you, to hold you when you have a nightmare. I alone am responsible for all what happened between us over the last decades. Not you. Not anyone else. Have I made myself clear?”  
“Yes Adar,” the young one responds and casts his gaze downwards because he can't bear the intensity of Thranduil's gaze. His eyes are like icy blue jewels which shines with a long lost brightness he only heard tales of.  
“We have much to talk about,” Thranduil responds and moves again to sit right behind the younger elf, taking him between his legs, back resting against his chest. 

Legolas doesn't know what is happening until he feels Thranduil's hands slowly undoing one of the small braids behind his ears. He relaxes into the simple affection he loved so much when he was but a child. He still does. And so they sit there, talking about the things that happened, about his mother and how beautiful she was. It is when Thranduil says “You remind me so much of her. You smell like her,” that the youth's thoughts begin to travel that sicken road again he hates himself so much for. Suddenly he is hyper aware of the way they are sitting on the bed, it could be so easily turned into something different if they weren't father and son. In this moment, the only thing he wishes for is too yield to the touch that is bestowed upon him and he shivers as his father lightly touches the tip of his ears as he begins to carefully braid the silken hair again. He is sure his father notices though he does not speak a word of it. It goes on like this. Every time Thranduil touches his skin it feels like a searing hot marking burning into him and he does not know how much longer he can keep still for it starts to arouse him and he is afraid that the older elf might sense it. By the time his father is finished with his braids his cheeks and ears are painted in a flushed red tone. 

“You are even more beautiful when you are ashamed”, Thranduil states quietly and kisses the top of his head. Legolas wants the ground to open up and swallow him. He feels hands at the sides of his arms, stroking him with a feather light touch and his father leans in to place a gentle kiss on his cheeks. He shudders and shifts uncomfortably, pulling his legs up to his chest to hide the evidence of the affects the king is having on him, face hidden between his knees. He doesn't see that Thranduil is watching him with a fond smile on his lips.  
“What is it my little leaf?” Thranduil asks, voice low and so very lulling.  
It is the moment he breaks. He can not bear it one second longer. He turns in his father's arms to lie half across his chest, head buried in the crook of his neck, hands clawing in the fabric of the other elf's night gown, inhaling the sharp and fresh scent of the forest.  
“Ada,” he whispers and Thranduil's heart _swells_ at the soft spoken endearment, unable to remember the time he heard it last. He places his arms around his son's back and holds him close, drawing soothing patterns on the small of his back. The touch is innocent, but it sends searing heat through Legolas' body and he has trouble controlling his breathing. It is too hot and every hair on his body stands on end as his father's hands roam over the swell of his bottom and then down his tights, fingers slightly dipping into the heat that is between his legs. He can not tell if it is by accident or intention. He gasps and his breathing comes shorter with every passing minute. He hates himself so much for it.  
Thranduil chuckles. A deep, dark sound that sends a spark of arousal straight down to his cock, making it twitch in the most delicious way. A strangled moan escapes him and he stiffens because there is no doubt left that his father hasn't realized what is going on. His body language gives everything away now. There is no chance in hiding himself and he wants to drown in the shame he is feeling. But then his father speaks again and it turns his world upside down.

“Do not hide yourself my beautiful leaf. It is okay. Do not be ashamed for the thing you are craving. “  
A pause, then quietly “It is sick.”  
“It may be twisted, but it is nothing we can not solve out together. I feel very deep for you my son. I love you. In every way that is possible and beyond. You made me realize this the moment you came to my bed. I know, I should not desire you in this way but I do and I am helpless against it. ”  
The youth can hardly believe his ears and when it's possible they get an even darker shape of red.  
"If you do not want this, you are free to leave and we will never speak of it again," Thranduil whispers lovingly against the side of his neck. It does nothing to lessen the youth's arousal. “I-I want it,” he answers breathlessly, not believing that they are actually having this conversation. He turns his head and finds Thranduils smiling a razor sharp smile, all white teeth. He finds he can't breathe anymore.  


“What do you want to do now?”, his father asks and the questions promises all the dark adult things he only fantasized about. His gaze travels to the king's bow shaped lips and the dark, enticing gape that lies between them, slightly parted and inviting. It is not long before he feels fingers under his chin lifting up his head and drawing him closer to his destination. His pulse springs like a cat's discovering a mouse. He feels Thranduil's other hand roaming back to his ass and he squeezes him through the thin green sleeping gown Legolas is wearing. The elf moans straight into Thranduil's mouth as his body reacts to the touch. They are still not kissing but sharing the same air, noses touching and the feeling of it is like sweet poison for the youth's mind. It's exhilarating. He can not think anymore. Not with his father so close and so terrifyingly beautiful. Thranduil squeezes again, fingers sneaking under the light fabric and he strokes between his upper tighs, where it's warm and sticky from the youth's arousal. Two fingers grazes over the backside of his balls and Legolas whole body jerks at the unexpected touch. 

“My beautiful boy”, is the last thing he hears before Thranduil closes in and lets their lips touch in a feather light brush of lips. It is enough to send Legolas mind into a swirling abyss where nothing else matters but his father's touch. Then he feels him nipping his bottom lip and the hand under his chin fists into his hair, pressing the younger elf closer for a proper kiss and a proper one it is for it steals Legolas breath and his heart skips a beat. Electricity sizzles through his veins as a hot, wet tongue seeks entrance and he is helpless. He surrenders like it is the most natural thing in the world to be kissed by a parent like that and lets the other play with his tongue. Thranduil swallows every sigh that escapes him and the prince drowns in the feeling of being thoroughly kissed by a skilled mouth. His father still fondles his balls and it feels so good. A shaky sigh falls from his lips as Thranduil breaks the kiss and licks the line of his throat to his jaw. Tongue hot and wet against his skin, leaving glistening trails of saliva. He shivers and cries out as the other elf nips at his ear and bites down onto the tip.  
“Ada,” falls from his lips. Desperate and wanton, and his dick twitches again as Thranduil chuckles.  
“Yes my dear?”, it is just a whisper against his sensitive skin.  
“Touch me please”, he exhales on a shaky breath and he could feel the king smiling against his neck.  
“I am touching you.”

Legolas whines at the playful tone and wiggles his backside to press back against the hand that is still occupied with his balls.  
"Touch my cock Ada,"  
Again Thranduil chuckles and nuzzles his nose in the golden strands of his heir.  
"So demanding. Turn around then, sweet leaf, so I can touch you proberly."

Legolas obeys and shrieks the second after as it just takes a few movements of Thranduils skilled hands and he is utterly nude, sitting again with his back to his father's chest between his legs and he can feel a vague hardness behind him. Shame now tints his cheeks again for he sees that he is already leaking and he turns his head to hide it in the crook of his father's neck, but the older elf just chuckles again. His hands travel over his son's chest, down his abdomen, his hips and then over his legs, spreading them in a lewd way and the youth notices with shock the big mirror in front of the bed. The image that greets him is depravity in its most finest ways and he finds that he can not look away. He watches as Thranduil's hands glide over the inner side of his thighs, over and over again, teasing him, carefully avoiding his slender, pink cock. His breath hitches as his father gazes at them through the mirror, a dark and promising smile adorning his face that causes his head to go all dizzy.  
“Adaaaaa..,” he whines and he hears the dark chuckle again. He could come by this alone.  
“So beautiful. You are so beautiful like this my pretty boy,” the king tells him and sucks the skin beneath his ears. His cock aches to be touched.  
“Show me how you touch yourself when you are alone. How do you like it?”  
Legolas mewls, but he is impatient and needs to be touched and so he reaches down and tugs at himself in his usual frenzy. Eyes shut, letting out a long and delicious moan as he finally feels some friction. Thranduil smiles wickedly and simply watches for a while, licking and sucking the skin before him and delights in the sweet sounds his son is making. But then he grabs his wrists and stops his movements.  
“You are an impatient one, aren't you?” 

And with that Thranduil's large hand is on him and the youth thinks he is in heaven. It feels so good. So much better than with his own hands and he moans, watching in the mirror as his father strokes him. Slow but firm. He fists his hands into the sheets because he doesn't know what to do with them and can't help but thrusts his hips into that slick feeling of having someone-..no not someone but _his father_ stroking his cock.  
“Adaaa...” This time the endearment is a definite moan and Thranduil feels his own dick twitch under his robe in anticipation, but he knows that his son is too young for such things yet. He is patient. He can wait.  
"Such a good boy. So responsive to my touch. I love how your little cock twitches when I touch it," Thranduil purrs into his ear. Voice so low and filthy. It makes the young elf shiver, hot sparks of pleasure licking up his spine and he squirms under his father's beautiful touch. It's so good. So addictive.  
"Feels good to have it touched by someone else, does it?" Thranduil's hand is large enough to cover both his cock and his balls and he starts a wicked combination of squeezes and tugs. "Yessss...,"the boy hisses and arches of the bed, trying to trust into his fathers hand. “Faster Ada please. I want to come,” he begs breathlessly, head dizzy and body on fire with pleasure and need. He feels it tingling from head to toe, already addicted to the strong grip his father is having on him.  
The king speeds up his movements and simultaneously licks at his ear, tracing the shell, biting down at the tip and the prince goes crazy.  
“Yes, oh gods, Yes,” he moans. 

Thranduil's free hand wanders over Legolas' chest and pinches one of the pink nipples. Involuntarily, the young one lets out a scream and his hips raise again of the sheets. He is unable to tear away his gaze from the mirror and still watches with narrowed eyes, trembling and then he feels the beginning of his orgasm in his toes. His mouth goes slack, whole body tightening and he is unable to make a sound anymore. Thranduil's hoarse comment “Feeling so good that you can't make a sound?”, whispered into his ear is too much for his inexperienced body and he teeters over the edge. Hot spurts of seed splash over his belly and his father's hand and with every pulse his ecstasy crawls higher until his vision blurs and he thinks he passes out. But he doesn't. Instead, he watches as his father milks out every last drop of him, mouth soundless gaping and spit drooling down his chin as his orgasm continues for what seemed like minutes. It feels so good. So good that his own hand never will be enough anymore.  
His father smiles sharply into his neck, satisfied that he could bring his son such pleasure. “Look at the mess you made. Your cock is still twitching," Thranduil says while nuzzling his cheeks, finally letting him go before he gets too sensitive. Then he licks his come covered fingers and brings Legolas' mouth up to a kiss full of tongue and he tastes himself.  
The youth is still dizzy and can barely move, but he does his best to keep up with the king's skilled tongue.  
After some time of lazy kissing they break apart. His father gets up to collect a cloth and for the first time the prince sees the massive arousal that stands between his endless legs. Long, thick and swollen and he shudders as he imagines how it would feel inside him.  
Thranduil notices his son's gaze and kisses him on the cheek.  
“If you still want me in 10 years from now, we will go all the way, but you are too young yet for such things.”  
“I'm not! I'm 40 already!” Legolas protests.  
His father chuckles and cleans him up with the cloth he collected from the other side of the room. Then he lies down again and tugs Legolas under the warm blankets with himself, facing him and kissing the tips of his fingers. The gesture is so tender and full of love that Legolas' heart nearly breaks at all the love he is feeling for this glorious being that happens to be his father.  
“Yes, you are. Sex is for adults, you are not even fully grown yet. I am wicked enough in the way I just touched you, but I refuse to bed a child. You must understand that my treasure.”  
Legolas pouts but knows that his father is right, yet he can't help the shiver that runs down his spine at the thought. He is impatient but he will wait.  
“Then I want your touch everyday!”  
“Insatiable little devil aren't you? ”  
It's the first time in years he hears his father laughing and it's like bells ringing in his ear. It's a clear and rumbling sound that echos from the walls of the room.  
“I love you, Ada,” Legolas whispers and presses a kiss to the kings lips, then nuzzling himself into the crook of his neck where he stays for the rest of the night. Protected and under Thranduil's infinite shelter.  
Thranduil watches him smiling and finally content again with the world. “I love you too my little leaf. Never forget this.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father and son having their first time together. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sweethearts,
> 
> Sorry that it took me so long. I intended to have the second chapter up within a few days but life got in the way as always.  
> The chapter is not beta read yet. I don't wanted to wait any longer with an update since I'm away for the next two weeks and won't be able to upload anything. I just hope it's readable and not too bad. I will correct the mistakes as soon as I have the beta read version. 
> 
> But yeah have fun. ;) This is basically just fluff and smut. Father and son doing the thing and both are having way too much fun. ;) ;) ;)

It's the night of Legolas' maturity celebrations when he slips unseen away from the still running festivities and into Thranduil's unguarded chambers. Clad in nothing more than a blue, loose tunic and sand colored breeches so tight like a second skin. 

 

~*~

 

He has waited. 10 years he had waited for this special night to occur and his patience was running as thin as a piece of paper. His father was reluctant, even stubborn to involve him in more than simply stroking, touching and kissing. Even that for just a handful of times in a span of 10 years and for the young elf who has just discovered sexual pleasure was it frustrating beyond measure since his own hand was simply not enough. They shared the same bed and the prince was more than happy to have his father back but lying in his arms without being touched was cruel torture. The last time the king touched him was three seasons ago and while time little matters for elves, it felt like an eternity. He had no idea how Thranduil was able to control his desire since the evidence of it was obvious as soon as his son slipped naked between the sheets and gazed at him with these big, blue and innocent eyes. But the older elf just leaned down to his ear and whispered that it will be the sweeter the longer he is denied. 

 

~*~

He closes the door behind himself and finds the room empty. No wonder because his father still has to manage their guests and that is exactly how he wants it to be. He smirks to himself as he makes his way to the big bed in the middle of the chamber and lets himself fall into the countless silken cushions. Their color contrasting with his skin and tunic in the most pleasant way. He breathes in his father's earthy scent and lounges back against the pillows, stretching himself out and thinking about what hopefully would happen very soon. A shiver runs down his spine as the anticipation tries to fog his mind but he catches himself and calms down. Then he strips his tunic away, but leaves his breeches on and lies back against the cushions, arms over his head and sprawled out in a very lewd way that only implies one thing. Wantonness.

It is half an hour later when he finally hears steps in front of the door, followed by the kings entering in his luxurious robes. He halts in his steps as he sees his son on the bed and closes the door behind him without taking his eyes off the beautiful creature, that lies so enticing on his bed. Half naked, perfect skin flushed and looking at him with these big eyes he loves so much. It takes everything Thranduil has to not laugh at the shameless display his son is offering to him. He finds his little leafs eagerness most enchanting. 

“Here you are”, he drawls, sweeping lazy towards the bed with a small smile on his lips. “I suspected as much. The impatience is strong in you my little one.”  
“I can't wait any second longer, please Ada,” comes the desperate voice of his son who sits up in the bed and looks with pleading eyes at the taller elf.  
Thranduil reaches out and strokes the left cheek of his heir with his fingers. It's a sweet and tender gesture.  
“Shh, calm down. We have the whole night and many nights after. There is no need for rushing things”, he says and leans down to press a chaste kiss on his lips. Then he turns, walking idle to the commode with the big mirror and sits down in the chair. The youth watches impatient as his father takes of his crown, his rings and undoes his white-blonde hair, letting it fall freely over his shoulders. It reaches down his entire back, shining like liquid silk. He takes his time with undressing and when he is finished he stands in nothing but his silver breeches.  
Legolas is already on the edge, aroused to the brink by simply watching his father undressing, body in perfect shape.  
Thranduil crooks and eye-brow at him and merely shakes his head in amusement, strolling back to the bed and sits down against the cushions. His left hand reaches out and the prince takes it, climbing eagerly into his lap, gasping as he feels the warm body underneath him. A shiver runs down his spine as his father's hands slide over his tights, over the curve of his ass and to his head to hold him gently in place. Thranduil leans in and nuzzles his cheeks against his son's, voice quiet.  
“When I take you like this, you will come the second I enter you and we don't want to end it that soon, do we?”  
The youth bites his lips, his own eagerness embarrassing him and he presses his forehead against his father's, eyes shut.  
“I don't care. Please Ada. Please. I can't wait anymore. Please sleep with me,” comes the desperate pleading. He feels so foolish suddenly but he can't help it. He wants it so much and as he sees how his father's eyes flutter shut at the loud spoken request he wants it even more.  
He feels soft lips ghosting over the skin of his face, nipping here and there in tenderness.  
“I will. Do not worry my treasure, but I am sure you do not mind if we play a bit first,” the kings speaks with a playful edge to his voice, causing the young one to exhale a shaky breath. Images of what that 'play' may contain flooding his head.  
“What do you mean by that?,” he asks finally.  
“Mhm...,” his father hums and squeezes his bottom a few times while nipping at his bottom lip.  
“First we should get you out of these obscenely tight pants. You are way too attractive in them,” he remarks and Legolas isn't able to react before his father roughly tugs at the waistband, stripping him of the offensive clothing in seconds. The youth hisses as his arousal springs free and needs to resist the urge to touch himself. Shame paints his cheeks as Thranduil takes his time and simply lets his eyes rake over the younger one's body. All slender and lithe and milky white skin that looks perfect with a few red marks on it, Thranduil muses.  
“Even the stars looks pale in comparison to you my leaf.”  
It lies so much honesty in Thranduil's voice that Legolas fights the urge to simply cry out of pure happiness.  
“And I still cannot believe that you are all mine to possess. You honor me greatly and I will forever worship you for the beautiful gift you made me. There is no treasure horde in the world more worth than this and I certainly do not take it for granted that you belong to me in such matters. You need to know this. I love you more than anything in the world, more than my own life and I will take great pleasure in joining with you.“  
The tenderness of his father's voice and the meaningful words helps to calm him down a bit, beaming with pleasure and carefree joy he throws himself into his embrace and inhales the familiar scent of him.  
“You spoil me so. I love you so much. You are everything to me Ada. My whole world and I don't know how I ever could live without you anymore ,” he whispers and searches for his father's warm lips. They just kiss for a while. Slow and tender but when Thranduil claims him with his skilled tongue, the fire quickly returns to his body and he squirms against him, desperate for more touch. Their upper bodies are all but pressed together as the king kisses his breath away. His mouth is like some dark, tempting weapon and Legolas yields. It's the only thing he can do. It's the only thing he wants to do. 

He moans as clever fingers slide over his cleft, but the touch is gone as quickly as it was there and he whimpers. The king grabs his sides and lifts him up to his knees. Legolas doesn't know what use it has until a lewd mouth is on his left nipple and Thranduil sucks while caressing his back and bottom. Squeezing and parting his cheeks every now and then. 

His mind goes blank and his heart skips a beat as a sharp slap lands on the flesh of his ass. Then another.  
“Adaaaa?”, he exhales, not knowing what his father is doing there but he just gets another. It doesn't hurt but burns in a way he finds extremely to his liking for the feeling of it reaches to his aching cock. Again a slap and he jerks forward, breathing ragged, eyes all wide. It goes on until he is a moaning mess and feels himself at the edge again.  
“You like it. What a naughty boy you are”, Thranduil growls and sucks down at his neck, leaving a red bruise he knows will blossom over night in something even more beautiful. Every vein in his body is on fire as his father lands another slap, his skin a soft red now.  
“Ada please. I'll come if you don't stop.”  
“That is exactly what I am intending”, he mumbles and licks his way up to his ear, where he sucks at the tip. Again a slap.  
“And when you have come by nothing more than my voice in your ear and my hand on your ass I will ravish you and make you feel so good that you even forget your own name.”  
Legolas moans like a wanton harlot at this. He feels hot to the core by the words alone.  
Another slap.  
“I will push my dick in that sweet little ass of yours and it will hit that one spot inside you that will drive you crazy. The pleasure will be so much that you can not even move and you just take it as I fuck you into sweet oblivion.”  
This one word, so dirty and unused in their culture pushes him over the edge and he comes untouched between their bodies in messy, hot spurts of come. His whole body trashes and shivers and he claws himself into his father's hair as he rides the waves of his orgasm. 

When he comes back to his senses Thranduil locks eyes with him and kisses the corner of his mouth. Legolas shivers as he sees how blown his pupils are, the black almost swallowing the blue of his iris. His self-control finally tired out.  
“Oh my leaf,” he rasps and in one fluid motion he flips them over so that he is hovering over the smaller form of his son. Legolas swallows as Thranduil reaches for the vial of oil stored away in the drawer beside their bed and his gaze fixes on the bulge in his father's breeches. He bites his lips as he imagines it inside him and reaches out to trace the outlines of the erection with his finger tips. Thranduil shudders above him. It's the first time he is allowed to touch him there and he wants to see and feel him fully. So he gets bold and tugs at the straps, looking up to his father for permission. He just sees blank, open lust in his eyes and takes it as a yes. With a burning heart he reaches into the waistband, feeling the heat and stickiness in there and strips them down. Slowly, savoring each centimeter of skin that is revealed. As his father's arousal is freed he raises of the bed, getting closer to the leaking tip. It's like an overpowering instinct he can not control, like a moth drawn to the light of a flame and like the moth he is nearly burned by the hotness of his father length as he hesitantly curls his hand around the base.  
A visible tremor runs through Thranduil's body and the youth licks his lips in anticipation. His father watches as these beautiful, kiss swollen lips draw nearer but his patience is not existent anymore and he uses one forceful hand to push Legolas back into the cushions. Leaning down to his ear, he whispers, voice low and filthy.  
“As tempting as your beautiful mouth is, I fear it won't be enough. Open your legs. I am going to fuck you now.”  
If Legolas wasn't hard before he certainly is now, his length swiftly filling with blood again at his father's filthy words. He realizes that he loves it to hear him talk like this. Not suited for a king and definitely not suited for a parent to his child. 

Obeying, he opens his legs and watches nervously as the king opens the small vial, coating his hands in the oily liquid. He moans wantonly as his father gives him one firm stroke but then moving down past his balls to tease his entrance. The prince claws his hands into the sheets and bites his lips as one finger breaches him. There is a burn. Not unpleasant but yet not pleasant either.  
“Shh relax. It might hurt a bit first but I promise that you will only feel pleasure as soon as your body is used to it,” Thranduil calms him, drawing soothing patterns at the inside of his tights. Legolas nods and the other elf continues preparing him. As a second finger is inside him pleasure mingles through the feeling of unused strangeness and he keens, arching his back to meet his father's movements. A third finger and he moans, all the while Thranduil watching him, searching and reacting to any discomfort his son his feeling. As he finds none he pushes deeper and curls his fingers to hit the sweet pleasure spot hidden there. The youth's eyes opens wide and a sound never heard before rips from deep inside his throat. It sounds carnal, like the cry of an animal.  
“What was that!?”, he screams and tries to sit up in his panic, but Thranduil holds him down with one strong hand on his chest and leans over him again, capturing his lips in a short but searing kiss.  
“This spot will make you feel incredible tonight,” he hums and the second after Legolas feels him withdrawing his fingers but they are replaced with something bigger nudging at his entrance. They are watching each other eyes as the older elf pushes in, inch by inch, burying himself into the clenching heat of his son and Legolas knows in this moment that he never will have another in his eternal life. He feels their very souls entangling and reaching out for each other, his whole body trembling with the force of a summer storm as his father claims him. Forceful and tender at the same time. Thranduil smiles and Legolas cries at the beauty of the moment, having it anticipated for far too long. When the king is fully seated he strokes through the golden hair of his heir and showers his face with cute, little kisses to give him time to adjust to the intrusion, even he is on the brink of loosing control. He wants to ravish him, hips twitching with suppressed want.  
“You feel so good my little leaf,” he whispers. “Perfect.”  
The only sound that comes in response from Legolas is a sob since he is overwhelmed by the feeling of incredible fullness and a new level of intimacy.

Thranduil moves slowly at first, but when he is sure that the sounds his son makes are coming from nothing but pleasure he changes his position and sits upright on his heels, positioning the prince's legs over his shoulders. The next thrust aims straight for the young one's sweet spot and he cries out in passion, trying desperately to meet his father's thrusts that are now growing more forceful and faster with each stroke. “Yes Ada. Yes,” he moans breathlessly. It feels better with every passing minute and slowly he doesn't know what to do with all the pleasure he is feeling. It starts to surpass the little experience he already had with his father's hand and he writhes and trembles under Thranduil's forceful thrusts.  
The king fucks him hard now, driving in and out with still increasing speed and the youth's world reduces to the lewd sound of naked flesh slapping against each other and the feeling of his father's heavy cock inside him. He can't think of anything else. Just that he needs more. His father watches him interested, fascinated by the display of depravity his son is offering to him. 

He whimpers as Thranduil suddenly pulls out, gripping his hips hard and flips him over to lie on his stomach just to drive into him again with relentless force. Desire suppressed for years bleeds into their lovemaking and the boy is happy to take everything his father gives him.  
The king fists one of his hands into his silken strands and pulls sharp, yanking his head back and the youth's cock twitches as the adrenaline of the harsh treatment rushes through his body. He likes it and he stills needs more. Thranduil holds him there. One hand in his hair, the other on his hips to snap him back against him. He is unable to move and he loves the feeling of power his father has over him. "Is this how you imagined it in your wicked fantasies?," comes the kings strained voice from behind and he gives a particularly forceful thrust to enhance his words that leaves Legolas gasping. He dominates him so easily and his father's voice twists itself in hot sparks of heat up and down his spine. "Yes Ada. More. Oh god...feels so good," Legolas sobs, voice broken and wrecked. He feels wonderful. So full of his father's cock and he doesn't know how he ever will be able to live without this feeling.

“What a dirty boy you are. Just like the father,” Thranduil breathes and leans down to lick at his son's bared throat, then bites down in a carnal display of possession. Legolas moans lewdly, his fire only fueled higher as he feels Thranduil down to his bones. It's incredible and perfect and he never wants it to end. It's not long before his legs and arms starts to give out, unable to hold him up anymore and he sinks down, upper body buried in the cushions, but his father has his hips in a strong grip and drives into him with powerful thrusts. Piercing him over and over again on his girth.  
"Oh yes," Thranduil moans. Head thrown back and mouth hanging open. "This was worth the wait." When Thranduil reaches down to stroke his leaking cock he can't take it anymore. It's too much. The double stimulation leaves his mouth open and he is again unable to make any sounds. His eyes roll back into his skull and he is the pure image of lewdness. It's always like this when his orgasm is building and Thranduil loves it. His sons eyes are shut now, brows drawn together in bliss and he drools in the cushions. He takes advantage of it and pumps him faster, now timed with his thrusts, luxuriating in the depraved sight that is offered to him.  
“You are so beautiful like this. Now come for me. Show me how much you love Ada's cock my little leaf.”  
It's not an request, it's an order and Legolas has no choice but following. Within seconds his body tightens up and he feels it tingling all over as he dances at the edge. One last stroke, one last thrust and he is lost. He comes like he never did before, soiling the sheets with the evidence of their non existent morality and the king is not far behind. Thranduil fucks and milks him through it, relishing in the feeling of his clenching channel. It's amazing. Everything and more.  
The youth is a trembling mess, completely dazed and satisfied as he comes back to his senses. He opens his eyes and turns his head just in time to see his father's face in ecstasy. Eyes closed, mouth open and heavy brows knit together. His hair is a mess and he's sweating all over. It's the most beautiful thing Legolas has ever seen.  
It's when Thranduil moans, loud and drawn out that the face of his father in bliss is burned into his memory like a stigma he will never be able to forget. He is beyond beautiful in his passion with his guard down and all just for him. His heart nearly burts with the love he is feeling for the elf behind him.  
He feels his semen inside him, marking him and dripping out around the sides to run down his tighs. His cock still twitches with the last pulses of his orgasm. He is in heaven. It feels so right. He can not bring himself to feel it as something wrong. It's too perfect.

They collapse into the mattress, both panting and covered in their body fluids. With a filthy sound Thranduil pulls out and leaves the young one hissing at the sudden emptiness. He rolls off his son and spoons him, burying his face in his golden hair as they come down from their heights.  
Legolas is the first who speaks after a few minutes of blissful silence.  
“That was amazing Ada,” he says, voice rough from all the moaning. Thranduil chuckles breathless.  
“Yes it was you dirty, little boy."  
“I'm not Ada,” Legolas splutters in played annoyance, turning in his arms to face him.  
“You should have seen yourself. Always demanding more. Your voice and body betrayed you my treasure,” Thanduil responds with a nearly grin on his face, placing a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose.  
“You were the one who talked so filthy the whole time and pulled my hair. AND SPANKED ME!”  
“Oh you want me to never do it again?”  
“NO!...No...,” the young one nearly shrieks and hides his face in the crook of his fathers neck, suddenly ashamed again.  
“ I liked it...very much,” he whispers and places a kiss to the other elf's collarbone.  
The king kisses his head in return and pushes the blankets up to cover their cooling bodies.  
“Do you want to bath my treasure?  
“Later. For now I just want to cuddle and just lie here with you.”  
“Everything you wish my dear,” Thranduil adds and together they fall into a satisfied slumber, holding each other like their life depending on it. Both knowing that they will face all that is coming embraced in a relationship so deep and fulfilling, that no other being on this earth is able to grasp but them. 


End file.
